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An old Jew asked me near the Jaffa Gate:
“Is the Saxon Garden still there? The same as ever?
Is there a fountain? At the entrance from Czysta Street
In the old days confectioners had a shop there…
He sings in the courtyard, clad in rags
A small, poor chap, a crazed Jew.
People drive him away, God has muddled his wits
Ages and exile have confused his tongue
He wails and he dances, weeps and…
When they begin to plaster the walls
With freshly printed proclamations,
When black print sounds alarm
Calling “To the People” and “To Soldiers”
And ruffians and adolescents
Are taken in by their…
The events of 1968 therefore came as a shock to me. [ . . . ]
One could of course continue to claim that it was not the people but only those horrible communists, those monstrous rulers, who with…
Some two years ago Nata had been deported from Warsaw to Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. Now she was free, but still unable to come to grips with life, so newly regained, though in the first breath…
No one paid any attention to Aronek. He took a piece of bread from the cupboard, chose the largest carrot, and went to the neighbors.
At the widow Gitel’s it was warm and clean. From the ceiling hung…
Among the illegal publications that appeared in Poland during the Nazi occupation, one can find a small anthology of poems entitled Z otchlani, from the Abyss. This modest volume, published by the…
19 August 1943
Today, dear Anka, is the anniversary of your Golgotha, tomorrow the anniversary of your death. A year has passed since I last saw you. You see, Anka, I do not believe in God and never…
The Jews held cattle dealers in contempt. They considered them illiterate louts in no way different from peasants. My grandfather never let a cattle dealer into his house. Into the barn yes, but never…
This urn will be made of fired clay
Of native soil, from Poland, my country
In it are lodged the ashes of my parents
My brothers, daughter, and wife.
The urn will be simple, like a jug
With a small…